


The Light and Heat You Feel

by delighted



Series: Alaska Lodge AU [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feelings, Introspection, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: In the eight years the boys haven’t known each other, their lives have gone in ways they wouldn’t if they’d been together. Danny’s on the edge of a deep dark chasm, and Steve’s lost and adrift in the woods.But when Danny travels to Alaska to try and escape his darkness, he meets Steve, who is trying to escape something that runs deep as well. And they find, in each other, something that helps them find their way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> T, without you, this quite literally would not have existed. I really do hope you enjoy it. <3
> 
> I actually lost sleep, you guys, worrying how you all will take this. My comfort zone has become things that are "soo them” or that you can "see this happening,” so to do an AU was a bit of a scary thing. I kinda fell in love with it, though, and I hope you do a little bit as well. 
> 
> This is a complete work, it’s 18,000 words total. I’ll be posting one chapter a day, and there are ten chapters. I would of course love comments as we go through it, because that’s part of what makes chapters so much fun. 
> 
> I hope it’s clear in the story, but just in case: the concept here is that Danny followed Rachel to Chicago and wound up partners with Lou. With no reason to form Five-0, and unable to ‘solve’ his father’s murder, Steve quit the Navy and wound up in Alaska.
> 
>  *** Tiny warning for chapter one** , which is pretty grim. The story lightens considerably once Danny gets to Alaska, but there are threads of his gloom through the whole story. Totally happy ending and good stuff, though. Promise.
> 
> Alright... deep breath...... Here we go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When you put a log on the fire, the light and heat you see is, in a literal sense, the decades of sunshine that tree basked in over its lifetime.”  
> ― Peter Brannen, _The Ends of the World_

The days are getting harder to get through. Even when workloads are light, even when cases go swimmingly their way. Somehow, each day is getting more draining, more of an effort. It gets progressively worse during the week. Tuesdays take more out of him than Mondays. Wednesdays are that much more exhausting, and Thursdays are just unbearably long and drawn out. Fridays typically offer a bit of a respite, especially when Lou calls the day early and makes them all go play baseball at the neighborhood park. They usually go for pizza and beers after.

Weekends are refilling. Assuming they don’t wind up with a case. Rachel and Stan are fighting their way through a messy divorce, and Danny’s had the kids just about every weekend for the past several. And that makes such a huge difference. And now it’s summer break, Danny’s got the kids for the whole month, and Lou’s been bringing his kids to hang out with Danny’s. Danny loves spending time with both his kids alone, don’t get him wrong. But having someone else to share that with—the work, but the enjoyment as well. Troubles halved and joys doubled and all that.

Danny looks out the back door to where his kids are playing on the trampoline. They’ll probably stay out until one of them gets hurt. He only hopes there’s no bloodshed tonight. Sighing into his beer, Danny almost finds comfort in that inevitability. The sun will set, it will rise again. Kids will jump and get hurt. And Danny will sit here and wait for it, while he drinks his beer and tries not to fall over the edge of the pit he feels is before him. Somehow, the perpetual motion of the kids keeps him aware of that edge.

They’ll order pizza, he decides. He tries not to order pizza too often, or Grace gives him a hard time—enlisting Charlie to also give him a hard time if need be. But it’s been a rough week, and Danny needs that comfort. Why it should be that not-quite-cold-enough beer from the bottle and greasy pizza in a cardboard box should bring him such comfort Danny isn’t entirely sure, but he figures it has something to do with things that hold him back from edges.

He presses his bare feet against the sliding glass door, hoping the warmth from the reflecting sun will somehow fuel him. If he could turn that radiant heat into energy, maybe he could burn out some of the darkness that’s been pushing at him from deep within. Instead it just makes it worse. Even a door can hold the sun’s heat. Why can’t his heart stay lit for more than mere moments?

The evening breeze picks up, sending the trees in the yard waving as though they’re trying to get his attention. He hears the kids’ yells as they jump and jump and jump. Where do they find it? That ceaseless energy? Even when they’re exhausted at the end of the day, they still have reserves aplenty for things like jumping, running, _fighting_. While Danny can barely scrape it together to put on clean clothes in the morning and down a reasonable amount of coffee in the hopes he’ll make it through another day.

 _God, he needs a vacation_.

Ideally somewhere far away. Somewhere there are no criminals, no pizza, and—he hates himself for the thought, but no children. He’s basically been celibate ever since the Stan-Rachel divorce started, and his girlfriend left him, assuming he’d wind up back in Rachel’s bed again (which he couldn’t blame her for thinking, but he just couldn’t bring himself to go there again). He needs sex. He knows it. But he’s kind of gone off women again. And he never got in with the gay scene in Chicago, doesn’t really want to. A steamy vacation romance, he thinks, is exactly what he needs.

A cabin in the woods would be nice, he decides. Which is an odd thought for him. Ordinarily he’d want an anonymous hotel room in a city where the buildings are so tall you can’t see the sky. Where the sun effectively sets just after noon because the horizon is a hundred stories high. But a cabin so deep in the woods the sun simply never shines feels even more fitting to his state of mind. Somewhere cold, so he could justify burrowing deep within, which is what he really wants to do. Pull up the covers, bolt the door. _Escape_.

Grace tumbles in from the trampoline, smiles the sad smile she’s been giving Danny lately, climbs onto his lap, ignoring his feeble protests about her getting too big.

“Let’s order pizza tonight, Danno,” she whispers in his ear as she takes his beer from him and sets it down.

Danny would laugh, would say “Thanks,” would say something, but he just has nothing in him with which to respond, so he doesn’t.

Grace doesn’t seem to mind. She slides down from his lap and picks up his phone, entering in their usual order, then sticks out her hand to him, and he pulls his wallet out, trying to smile at her. She kisses his cheek.

“Why don’t you go shower. I’ll make a salad and get Charlie to come in.”

Danny nods. Picks up his beer and heads upstairs to freshen up. Maybe it’ll help.

It does, a bit. So does cuddling with his kids on the sofa watching a movie till they fall asleep. Something with talking animals and a journey though a forest. Alaska, he thinks. And he remembers Lou telling him about his college buddy who runs a lodge in the 49th state, and thinks maybe that’s what he needs.

He texts Lou, asking about it. Lou writes back right away, seems to agree it would be good for Danny to get away. Actually, he’s probably been hinting at it for a while now, but Danny’s been kind of tuning him out.

 _Seaplane in_ , Lou writes. _No roads, no access, no anything other than hunting, fishing, and deep dark woods_.

None of which interests Danny in the slightest. Except “deep, dark.”

 _It’s not exactly elegant_ , Lou warns him. _But it’s not exactly ‘rough’ either. There’s a chef who’s probably got five stars somewhere the rest of the year. The bed linens are sublime._

Danny laughs at that, as Lou intended.

Lou tells him there’s a spot if he wants it, starting Monday, and he’ll keep the kids, don’t worry about it.

Danny doesn’t even think about it. He writes back _Yes_. Then he gets the kids to bed, and starts to pack.

And so Sunday night finds Danny, bags packed, standing at the airport without the kids—he’d bribed Lou to take them to the aquarium and then out for pizza, after he’d made his farewells at home. Charlie had been excited to spend five days with Uncle Lou. Danny suspects Lou has candy hidden somewhere in his house and only Charlie knows where it is.

Grace had tried to be adult about it.

“You know you can count on Lou for anything you and Charlie need,” he’d told her, trying not to freak out about leaving her like this.

“I’ll look out for Charlie,” she’d replied, kissing Danny on the cheek. “You just do what you need to do, Danno.”

He’d smiled, tears welling in his eyes, as he saw once more what a beautiful adult she was becoming. “Thanks, monkey,” he’d whispered, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Danny swallows his tears at the memory, and turns and heads for his gate, before he can think the better of it and head back home. He needs something. Something to lift him, something to lighten him, something to warm him... something of him. Desperately. He only hopes he can find it in Alaska. Because if he can’t, he doesn’t want to think what will happen.


	2. Chapter 2

It feels like it takes forever to get there, and by the time he does he’s just kind of numb. Which he figures is better than it’s been at least. Maybe things are looking up.

Danny sits in his room, admiring the view, thinking vaguely that the kids really would love it here. He touches the linens reflexively. They feel as though someone took cotton and wove it like silk. He has no idea what that means, but it fits. Even the bath products are astonishing. He showers, mostly to get Chicago off him and have a fresh start, and the pine scented soap and shampoo seem to put him in a brighter mood. Dressing in jeans and a soft sweater, which feels odd for the middle of summer but very comforting, he takes one more look around him, and heads to the bar for a drink before dinner.

The dining room is dark, lit only with candles, some medieval looking torches, and a fire in the fireplace. The tables are roughly hewn from slabs of pine trees, and they make strange partners with the plush burgundy velvet club chairs flanking them and the crystal wineglasses that sparkle like diamonds in the flickering light. Danny wants to laugh, wants to share his amusement with Lou. They’d have made fun of this place while secretly enjoying it. His sigh must carry, as a strikingly elegant woman sitting at the bar turns around and smiles at him.

“Join me,” she offers, holding out a gold-rimmed coupe that’s half-full of slightly murky liquid.

There’s something about her that makes him feel at ease almost against his will, so he sits down and nods to the bartender—who Danny thinks is ideally suited to the bizarre setting. He’s not only dressed impeccably in a high quality tux (and is perfectly at ease in it), but he looks for all the world as though he thinks he’s in a Bond film. The woman next to Danny could fit easily in the Bond universe as well, he decides, and for one moment he wonders if he’s not hopelessly out of his depth. Neither of them act as though he is, and so Danny allows himself to slip, somewhat sleepily, into the notion. _Why not_. He’s on vacation after all. A little fantasy could be good for him.

“What are you hiding from?” She asks, turning back to her drink now that Danny’s sitting down. “Or should I say, who?”

He shouldn’t be unsettled by that comment—after all, he’s really hiding from himself—but he is. He’s pretty sure she can tell.

“I’m hiding from my husband,” she offers, when Danny doesn’t answer right away. “Well. I’m not hiding from him so much as his obsession with fishing.” She finishes her drink and holds the glass out to the bartender who seems fixated on her as though she’s got him somehow under her sway. “Roberto here will look after you, won’t you darling,” she purrs as he fills her glass afresh from a shaker he’d already been preparing. He pours a second glass of whatever it is for Danny.

“I hope you like them dirty.” She’s watching Danny as he studies his glass suspiciously, then she laughs easily at herself. “That sounds awful and I really don’t mean it that way.” Roberto scoffs softly, and the woman rolls her twinkling brown eyes at him. “Really, I don’t. I promise, my bark is a whole fucking lot worse than my bite.” She holds out a hand that is rough and in contrast to her polished tone (up till the swearing at least) and sophisticated dress. “Lucy,” she says as Danny takes it and finds it’s warm and softer than it looks. “I come here every summer with my husband Ralph, who thinks the fishing’s divine. I get a bit brash and take it out on Roberto and whomever is dumb enough to sit with me.”

Danny laughs, and it’s the most honest laugh he’s laughed in ages.

“So, what are you in for?” She asks, pushing his drink towards him.

“Deep dark existential crisis?” He offers.

“Ah, yes. Of course, I should have known,” she replies, looking him up and down assessingly, rubbing her hands together. It’s really not polite to take so much delight in another’s torture, surely. She clearly doesn’t have any qualms about that though. “Join me for a bloody steak and some really quite lovely gnocchi?” She asks, getting up and moving towards one of the tables, near but not next to the fire.

“Uh...” Danny hesitates. He’s not really that hungry and he’s not at all sure he is up for trying to hold his own in conversation with this woman.

“We don’t have to talk. I just like the company.”

And so Danny finds himself sitting with Lucy, and after two more martinis (she refuses to switch to wine at the meal, which he thinks is refreshing), he’s opening up to her about his gloom. She listens far more thoughtfully than he assumed she might, and he has one prickly moment where he thinks maybe she’s a shrink sent by Lou to set him right. But when he finishes his rambling, she puts her drink down, takes his hand in hers, and says:

“What you need is a seriously good fuck.”

He nearly chokes and covers it by laughing awkwardly.

“Oh, I don’t mean me, dear, but have you been out on the boat yet? Met the delicious gamekeeper? I think he’d be right up your alley. At least he’d be damn good for you.”

And Danny kind of stills at that. He doesn’t typically get sorted as being gay or even bi, and he had been talking about his ex-wife for the past hour. But he _has_ been off women for a while now (if only kind of on principle), and anyone who’s caught his eye (he’d blamed it on his peevish return to college depressiveness) has in fact been a guy. Preferably a somewhat rustic guy, maybe one who smells like that pine soap, or a camp fire. And they’re not all that easily come by in the Windy City. At least, not that he’s found. But then, he hasn’t exactly been looking.

She smiles almost lasciviously at him, as though she’s read all of those thoughts plain as day. Her white teeth gleam bright against her dark skin, and she’s obviously brewing a plan. Danny thinks she probably brews lots of plans, and expects them to succeed, and woe betide those who disappoint her. He finds he doesn’t really mind. Probably it will be good for him to have someone brew something for him, as he’s not managed it himself in far too long. He supposes he should feel guilty about that, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll get Ralph to take you out with them tomorrow. You’ll enjoy it, and even if you don’t, it’ll be a damn sight better for you than getting into trouble with me and Roberto. Besides. I might want him to myself, and he’s been eyeing you rather too closely for my liking.”

Danny blushes at that, decides he likes her, and somewhat against his better judgment (he seems to recall getting seasick the one time Lou’d got him to go out on the lake), he agrees to go out on the fishing boat at seven in the morning. Lucy claims to have his best interest at heart, and sends him to bed with a cup of warm milk and a plate of cookies.

“You rest up now, darling. You want to look your best for Steve in the morning.”

Danny’s not altogether sure he does, but he nods obediently and heads back to his room, shaking his head in bemusement along the way.

He showers again, mostly because he really likes the soap, and he has one of the cookies, dipped in the now tepid milk, and maybe it’s the childhood comfort, or the prospect of tomorrow, or just having been lulled by the food and booze and firelight, but he sleeps soundly for the first time in a really long while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice longer chapter for you today. And we (and, more importantly, Danny) _finally_ meet Steve! 
> 
> I'm tickled at the responses so far! (And I adore that you liked Lucy.) You're all so sweet and so supportive. I love it. Thank you!

He doesn’t have a problem being up in time for the early start—time change in his favor and all. But he does go back to his room not once but twice to change. Because it really is colder than he’d expected. Or maybe he’s feeling anxious for some reason. The third time he heads out to the dock, Roberto is standing there, ramrod straight, immaculate in his tux even at the early hour, holding thermoses of coffee and a basket of pastry. Danny, breathing in the pine from the woods and the burning wood from the lodge’s fireplaces, thinks pastry is maybe a bit out of place; surely pancakes and sausages would be more fitting? Still, they do smell buttery and sweet, and the coffee, though weaker than he likes, warms him. Roberto hands the basket off to a tall guy in torn jeans, combat boots, and a thick flannel shirt over a tee that is almost obscenely tight. Danny assumes he must be Steve.

He’s good looking in a leading-man sort of way, Danny supposes. Dark, kind of scruffy stubble just this side of peppered, hair looking a little like he rolled out of bed moments before showing up on the dock. Sleepy bedroom eyes, and a sort of loping swagger that suggests an ego a few sizes too large. Probably Danny’s type, if he thinks back to the days when he’d only had eyes for men. Which he pointedly hasn’t been doing. Looking back, that is. It’s been too close to two decades and he hasn’t wanted to dwell on mistakes. Still, Danny hangs back while Steve gets the fishing gear together and settled aboard, and he watches him closely. Something about the way he moves... he’s precise, knows exactly what he’s doing, there’s no extraneous busy fussing. Military precision, it strikes Danny. This guy is over-qualified for running a fishing boat at a small Alaskan lodge, he realizes. Very overqualified.

And then Steve looks up and catches Danny watching him, and his face lights up with this completely ridiculous smile that does something funny to Danny’s head, and he’s not going to have to worry about being seasick because he’s already dizzy.

Steve ambles over, his walk making Danny think of a cowboy for crying out loud. He sticks out a hand, and seriously, the grin gets larger.

“You must be Danny Williams, I’m Steve McGarrett.”

His hand is cool and his fingers rough, no doubt from his work. But his grip and posture confirm Danny’s suspicions. Definitely military.

“Come on aboard, take a seat, and we’ll get going.” Steve looks Danny up and down, assessing—strikingly similar to how Lucy had looked at him last night. A prickle goes through Danny, and he thinks he notices other similarities beyond that. Their posture, some flavor to their energy, an intensity. And that dang twinkle in the eye. Steve’s are hazel, Danny notes. Not that he’s looking.

Steve breaks his scrutiny and says something about Danny not having any gear.

“I’m really just along for the ride,” Danny replies, shaking himself out of his musing, and the lopsided grin that wins him from Steve goes directly to Danny’s gut like he’s been shot. His breath catches, and despite his unease he’s finding himself pulled in.

Steve winks and mock whispers: “Lucy warned me.” Which returns Danny’s discomfort with a jolt. When had Lucy talked with Steve, and what else had she said? Before he can descend into full out panic, he closes his eyes and holds himself still, deciding he’s not going to freak out over this. He climbs onboard the boat and sits where he can focus on the scenery.

Once they’re moving, he starts to settle. It really is stunningly beautiful here, and he loves smelling the pine in the air. He misses that, he realizes, with a pang, from Jersey. Not much pine in Chicago, and it just doesn’t smell the same. But then, Chicago is almost impossible to escape, unlike The City, as it will always be in his mind. Jersey is still wonderfully wooded, even really close to New York. It occurs to him to wonder if that hasn’t been part of his problem since leaving home. Obviously the divorce is to blame for a good deal of his gloom, but he’d loved getting out into the woods as a kid. He’s taught himself to suppose he hated it. Maybe that was wrong.

Ralph’s settled himself across from Danny and starts rustling though the basket of pastries. He’s not what Danny’d expected, though he’s not altogether sure what he did expect. Lucy’s husband seems to confirm Danny’s rather muddled sense that he’s in a Bond film. He’s older, but not as old as Danny for some reason had imagined. Tall, slim, and very suave, Ralph’s far too elegantly clad for a fishing expedition. He reminds Danny of one of Rachel’s relatives he’d met once on a trip to London. An uncle, or a cousin or something—in some branch of the government. Danny now wonders if it wasn’t MI5.

“Ah, my favorite. Chocolate croissants. Would you like one?” Ralph’s voice reminds Danny of chocolate, he thinks, before he can stop himself, blushing. He decides what the hell, he’s supposed to be on vacation, and gets up to take one.

“Surprising to find such excellent French pastry in the wilds of the north, isn’t it?” Ralph chuckles dryly, amused by his own repartee. “How is your coffee? It’s horribly weak. I don’t know how many times I’ve told that man he doesn’t know what he’s doing with a coffee pot. Here—this makes it better,” and he pulls out a sizable flask from somewhere in the folds of his coat. The coat that Danny had been thinking was thicker than it needed to be for summer, even in Alaska. Danny’s wearing two layers of thermal shirts and he’s fine. Of course, he’s used to Chicago winters and the completely ludicrous Lake Effect. He shudders involuntarily at the thought. Why anyone thought Chicago was a good place to build a city, he will never understand.

“Thanks,” Danny says, as he lifts the lid from his thermos and pours some of the liquid in, not even asking, which really isn’t like him, but something tells him refusing isn’t an option and he’s not up for trying.

They sit quietly, eating and drinking, and Danny can’t help but feel strangely uplifted. Maybe it’s that pine-scented air, maybe it’s eating chocolate for breakfast, or maybe it’s just the booze (he’s pretty sure that was some seriously high quality whiskey in the flask), but something feels warm inside him despite the chilly air rushing by as the boat makes its way to wherever it is they’re going.

“Lucy tells me you’re a cop,” Ralph’s finished his croissant and that evidently means it’s time for conversation. He’d eyed Danny the whole time they were eating, but Danny’s starting to get used to being examined.

“That’s right,” Danny replies, not overly eager to talk about work or home, but feeling he owes it to the man to be at least polite, having had dinner with his wife the night before.

Ralph laughs. “Don’t worry, none of us are especially keen to discuss our jobs while we’re here. I was just going to let you know, in case Lucy didn’t, because I am sure she did not, that you’re in good company. Just about everyone here is law enforcement or ex-law enforcement. It’s rather the unspoken theme.”

Danny glances towards the cabin where he can see Steve, standing at the wheel, driving the boat as though it were something far more serious than a tiny fishing boat.

“Him too.”

Danny turns to look at his companion. He’s worried he’s blushing again.

“Ex-Navy SEAL.”

Danny knows his eyebrows go up.

The smile Ralph tries to hide behind his thermos of boozy coffee makes Danny think Lucy’s told her husband rather more than he’s comfortable with.

And suddenly the boat’s stopped, and almost as though his ears have been burning, Steve emerges from the cabin, that ridiculous grin plastered across his handsome face once more.

“Save me any?” He asks, slapping Ralph on the shoulder, sending a glance in Danny’s direction that’s even more appraising than Danny had been getting used to.

With a croissant stuck between his teeth, Steve helps Ralph and his gear to the seats at the back of the boat where the rods and bait and all are. He comes back to retrieve the basket and Ralph’s thermos, takes the croissant out of his mouth to ask Danny if he’s sure he doesn’t want to fish.

“Alright,” he says lightly when Danny shakes his head. “Let me get him set up with the rod,” adding in an undertone: “He’ll soon be asleep, and we can talk.”

The way he says it makes Danny feel uneasy again, but almost in a good way. He distracts himself by looking out at the shore—Lucy had told him it was his best chance of spotting wildlife. While Danny sits watching the tree line for signs of moose or bears, Steve baits Ralph’s hook for him, and anchors the rod in the holder while Ralph takes another drink from his thermos, pulls a plaid blanket closer about him, and settles back in his chair. Within moments, he’s clearly nodded off.

Steve turns to Danny with a smirk and an “I told you so” gesture, then walks slowly over to where he’s sitting and joins him on the bench, wiping his hands off on his jeans, leaning back against the railing, wrapping an arm along it, behind Danny. Like guys do in really cheesy movies. Part of Danny seems to enjoy it, though (maybe just for the extra warmth) and if he accidentally moves a bit towards Steve rather than away, well, probably it’s the fault of the sway of the boat on the water.

“I’ll just be up front and tell you that I know Lucy got her talons into you last night, and you don’t have to be uncomfortable with me because of it. She has no sense of boundaries. I love her for it, but not everyone does.”

Danny feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “She is a bit much to take,” he admits. “But I kind of liked it. People back home are assertive, but it’s usually unpleasant. She was definitely not unpleasant.”

Steve’s head tilts at him. “Where’s home?”

Danny still hates admitting it. “Chicago.”

“Ah, ‘My Kind of Town.’”

That gets Danny to smile. “Good ol’ Jersey boy Frank.”

“You’re from Jersey.” His appraising look returns.

“Yep. You?”

Steve’s smile is a little sad, Danny thinks, as he replies: “Hawaii.”

“From Hawaii to Alaska,” Danny almost laughs. “Got something against the real states?”

Steve does laugh at that, and then swiftly puts his hand over his mouth. They both look back towards Ralph, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Still, Danny presses his lips together to hold back his own laughter, and finds Steve looking, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, his gaze growing heated.

Oh, but this situation is awkward. He feels a little bit like a piece of meat, and the Navy SEAL next to him certainly fits the predator profile, and Danny’s not sure how he feels about that. He’d been so desperate and so not himself before that he’d been willing to not even think, to just succumb to whatever befell him. But now he realizes he’s starting to feel hints of himself creeping back, slowly waking. And there’s just something about this man that he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s doing strange things to his head, and he doesn’t want a quick meaningless fuck anymore.

But probably he never really did. Danny’s never been very good at that, and he wonders if Steve is. He can’t be sure, obviously, and something about Lucy’s involvement makes him suspicious. But it doesn’t fit the whole vibe he’s getting from Steve, which maybe is Danny being an idiot, but it feels genuine. It feels warm, and maybe it’s impossibly cheesy, but Danny thinks it’s what Hawaiian sunshine must feel like, sort of soft but utterly inescapable. It feels, if he’s honest, really fucking wonderful, and he kind of just wants to bask in it, and he should probably feel like a complete dofus for that but he doesn’t, he just feels kind of soft and happy.

He’s not ready to say anything about any of that, though, so they settle into talking about Hawaii, and it seems to Danny that Steve’s got some serious unresolved issues involving his hometown. Something unpleasant happened, he can tell, but Steve is clearly not up for talking about it, so they skirt around the issue, Danny asking polite questions and not reacting when Steve ignores something and moves on to another topic. He can’t bring himself to ask why Steve’s doing menial tasks in Alaska, because he suspects the two are connected, especially after what Ralph had hinted about the whole place being some kind of retreat for ex-service types.

They’ve each had a second croissant, Danny’s finished his coffee, and they’ve started talking about sports teams and the various merits of football versus baseball, when an alarm on Steve’s watch goes off—the totally complicated kind of watch you’d expect a Navy SEAL to have, Danny thinks, noticing it for the first time as it interrupts his pleasant morning.

“Time to head back,” Steve says, and he sounds regretful.  

Reluctantly, he stands, and heads to the back of the boat. He pulls Ralph’s line out of the water, puts the rod away, walks slowly back to the cabin, smiling softly at Danny on the way, then they’re moving again, back towards the lodge.

Ralph wakes once they’re moving, straightening himself up, and looking at Danny with a grin. “You two had a nice chat, I hope?” And he winks.

Danny tries to smile, but that uneasy feeling that had abated while he was talking with Steve comes flooding back, and he feels a little sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s just the boat. On top of coffee, booze, and sugar.

Ralph lets him be, going in to talk with Steve for a bit, then returning to his seat in the back. Danny watches the trees fly by, and tries to let his mind fly with them. By the time they’re back at the dock, Danny almost feels calm again. It really helps when Steve smacks him lightly on the shoulder as he walks by, letting his hand linger for just a second longer than it needs to. But Danny doesn’t let himself think about what that means.

As Ralph’s getting his gear off the boat, Steve opens the cooler chest, pulls out a bunch of fish—Danny has no idea what kind—hands it to him, saying cheerfully “Give Lucy my best. And, tell her thank you.”

Ralph winks at Danny again. “Keep my secret?”

Danny nods, smiling this time in earnest.

Once Ralph’s off the boat, Steve turns back to Danny.

“Lucy really thinks he likes to fish....” Danny says, amused.

Steve shrugs smugly and Danny suspects there’s a story there, but he’s not going to hear it.

Danny grins anyway. “Whatever makes them happy, right?” Why’s he trying so hard? Ugh.

Steve’s expression turns serious, eyes narrowing intently at Danny, and it makes him feel lightheaded.

“What would make _you_ happy?”

Danny huffs out a laugh as he tries to find his footing on the dock. Maybe because he’s off-balance, he doesn’t filter his response. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the area.”

That damned ridiculous grin is back: “By water or by sky?” Steve’s eyes are flashing, deep brown-green like the forest, and they make Danny’s pulse race. God help him, he’s doomed. He swallows his nerves and gives the answer he truly means.

“Sky.”

It seems that was the answer Steve hoped for because he looks exceptionally pleased. “Sounds great. I can take you out tomorrow. You’ll need to dress more warmly than this,” he waves his hand up and down Danny’s body, which makes Danny shiver. And not from being cold. Steve notices and the heated look in his eyes intensifies. “It gets cold up there. I’ll bring lunch. Meet you here at eight.” And he doesn’t wait for a reply, he just turns back to the boat and leaves Danny standing there, unsure what he’s just got himself into. And really unsure how he’s going to keep himself distracted until then....


	4. Chapter 4

Fortunately, all the fresh air’s really made him hungry, and lunch is still on in the dining room, where he spots Lucy, who waves him over. She’s just finishing a plate of the smoked salmon they evidently are known for, served with fresh vegetables, and before he’s made it to the table, she’s sent Roberto to go get one for him.

He smiles as he sits, glad to see her, he realizes, which warms something deep inside him. “Thanks, that looks good.”

“It’s a must,” she says dismissively, before scooting her chair closer to his and leaning in. “So.... How was it? Isn’t Steve lovely?”

Danny feels a little exposed, without a drink to hide behind, but he’s pretty sure his cheeks are pink from the cold air, so he at least has that on his side. He starts to say something, but she gives him this look, as though she’s reading every little sign he’s trying not to give off, so he just stops. He must be feeling bolder than usual, because he meets her gaze levelly. “I don’t think I need to answer that, now, do I?”

He feels proud of himself for that, for holding his own with her, and he’s glad he did because it’s immediately clear he’s passed some sort of test. She laughs and leans back. “Good,” is all she says, but he reads more in her eyes, which don’t leave his.

Once his food arrives, she gets up. “I’d better go check on Ralph, so I’ll leave you to your food. But I hope you’ll join us for dinner?”

“I’d like that,” he says with a genuine smile, and he knows he means it.

She gestures to Roberto as she’s walking out, and he brings Danny a glass of wine that goes perfectly with the salmon. He doesn’t mind not having company while he eats, because the food really is splendid and he feels like it deserves all his attention. It’s also possible that his mind’s a little bit busy processing things. Like torn jeans and tight tee shirts and the smell of pine trees, and how everything will look from the air.

After he eats, he goes back to his room to call the kids and check in with Lou, who scolds him for worrying and tells him to please lighten the fuck up and have fun. He listens to Charlie’s stories about the strange fish and the really cool play submarine at the aquarium, and Grace admits the beluga whales still make her want to be a marine biologist. Danny has a fleeting thought that since they both love sea creatures so much maybe he should take them to Hawaii some day, and he regrets the thought almost as soon as he’s had it, because it does some really funny things to his stomach. Hanging up with them, he feels drained by their never ending energy, and he realizes he’s sleepy. Danny briefly contemplates a nap, but decides to tough it out and instead heads to the library where they (very smartly) always serve coffee, and settles in to read his book.

A book, the enormous fireplace, a hot drink, and huge view-filled-windows of pine trees and lake, and Danny’s feeling the ick slide slowly off him, not doing anything to try, just allowing himself to be and not think. And that, he knows, is a remarkable thing indeed.

Dinner, he supposes, will be a somewhat formal affair, given the people he’s dealing with, so he puts on his nicest shirt and slicks his hair back and hopes it’s good enough. He’s rewarded with a whistle from Lucy, who he meets in the hall outside their rooms.

“Hot stuff!” She whispers as she closes on him for a kiss on the cheek.

She’s splendid in a vibrant, loose fitting dress that looks like it belongs in Hawaii much more than Alaska. He wouldn’t ordinarily openly admire another man’s wife, but she holds herself out and spins ostentatiously. He laughs.

“Very tropical,” he says, approvingly.

“I was in the mood, for some reason,” she winks at him as though they share some inside joke, which, he realizes, they kind of do. He feels a moment of discomfort, but she’s slipped her arm in his and leads him towards the bar, which Danny thinks is some sort of comfort thing for her. To be honest, he kind of agrees right now.

“Let’s do Mai Tais, shall we? Roberto makes a Mai Tai that is simply divine.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits easily. That’s the effect she has on him, he thinks. All bright colors and warm eyes and soft skin. She just puts him at ease. “They should pay you,” he says, as they approach the bar. “You’re like their ambassador, or something.” She stills, just for a fraction of a second, but he catches it, and wonders if he’s hit on something, but before he can say anything more, Roberto’s already setting drinks in front of them—stunningly crafted little concoctions, mounds of crushed ice, the drink expertly layered, and garnished with a stalk of pineapple leaf, a sliver of fresh pineapple, even a bright purple orchid, which Lucy sticks behind her ear.

“I might have called ahead,” she says, holding her drink out to his for a toast. “To new adventures,” she says, somewhat wistfully, and Danny wonders what’s behind that sentiment.

But not for long, because the drink tastes even better than it looks, and he thinks he’d better keep an eye on her tonight. Something tells him she’s not above getting him drunk and sending him to Steve’s room.... A thought she evidently senses, because she grins, her teeth flashing against tonight’s vivid pink lipstick.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, honey,” she whispers hitting him gently on the knee. “There’ll be time for that later. For now, I need you by my side to survive this dinner. I should have warned you. Ralph’s got business prospects with him tonight—they’re still in the conference room. Hopefully we’ll have a couple of these beauties in us before they make it out. Meanwhile, let’s plan what we’re ordering, shall we?”

And they sit too close together and she picks the menu apart, rearranging several of the dishes into new combinations, and Danny hopes that doesn’t upset the chef, though from the look on Roberto’s face as he very not-subtly eavesdrops, he thinks the opposite is likely.

They’re into drink number two when Ralph and his business partners emerge, looking very much in need of drinks, and Danny realizes Roberto must have some surveillance going or something, because he’s already got drinks ready for them, and probably they ordered them before hand because each drink is different, and each person clearly knows which is theirs.

That whole thing Danny’d been pretending about being in a Bond movie is feeling a lot less like pretending, and some shiver of something not entirely pleasant goes through him, but then Lucy descends amongst them, wafting a cloud of something tropical and warm behind her—and maybe that’s part of what was relaxing him. She seems to plan every aspect of her presence; it wouldn’t be out of place if she chose her perfume specifically to put people at ease. He watches as she greets each of the partners differently, and he recognizes she’s playing a game. Ralph catches him observing her, and he grins, managing to work his way over.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Ralph says, tone one of awe, that tells Danny he’s very much in love. “She can be brash when it doesn’t matter, but when it does, she’s smooth as fucking silk. Don’t let it fool you, though. She’s cunning as can be, and sharp as a dagger.”

“Is she....?” Danny wants to ask if Lucy fits in the whole ex-service, law-enforcement theme of the place, but he realizes she’s not ex-anything, and if she does fit, she’s still very much active.

Ralph watches Danny’s thought process, and nods slightly as if to say _well done_. Danny’s cheeks heat. To cover it, and also because what the hell just happened, he decides to mention Lucy’s creativity with the menu.

His companion sighs. “She does that, I’m afraid. Pisses Chef right off, but he usually winds up loving what she comes up with and steals it for his restaurant back in New York.”

Danny laughs, and Lucy turns toward him when she hears it, smiling happily when she sees them talking. Ralph takes Danny by the arm and walks him toward the back room—evidently dinner will be in the private dining room. “Let’s go get the good seats, shall we?” Which evidently means the ones closest to the bar.

Dinner proceeds in much the same way, and Danny knows he drinks too much, but he doesn’t mind, thinks maybe it’s good for him. He feels somehow safe, protected here, in this backwoods wilderness with two of the most elegant and over the top people he’s ever met.... And _Steve_.

Lucy flirts her way through the evening, but she makes time for him regularly, and half way through the meal he realizes she’s using him to ground herself—returning to him as if she were refueling. And not just because she keep stealing sips of his drink and bites of his food.

Finally, the supposed business associates retire to their rooms, and it’s just Lucy and Ralph and Danny, curled in leather club chairs next to the fire in the library, glasses of port clutched in their hands, and a look of exhaustion on Lucy’s face, one of contentment on Ralph’s.

When Ralph gets up, saying he’s heading for bed, he levels a sincere look at Danny.

“Thank you for tonight. It may not seem like it, but that was really helpful, for both of us.”

Danny has no idea what to make of that, but he smiles. “Glad to be of help,” he says, which sounds strange as far as a reply, but it’s what comes out.

Once he’s gone, Lucy gets up—he notices she’s not touched her port—and climbs onto the arm of his chair.

“Alright. It’s not very late... but I’m done for as well. You, however, should make the most of things. There are carafes of hot cocoa at the side of the lodge facing the lake. Roberto’s lit the fire pit on the beach, so it will be cozy. There are chairs and blankets down by the water. You should go sit out for a bit and enjoy the Alaskan summer night.”

Something about the way she puts it makes Danny feel it’s more an order than a suggestion, and it does sound nice to get some fresh air, clear his head before heading to bed, so he nods agreeably. It’s not till he’s poured himself a mug of cocoa and is grabbing a blanket from the basket and contemplating which chair to sit in that it occurs to him that so far, everything he’s done on this trip has been at the suggestion—if that’s even the right word for it—of Lucy.

It doesn’t help the fluttery feeling in his stomach that shortly after the thought clears from his mind, he hears the door open, swiftly followed by: “Hey, buddy! Luce told me I’d find you out here.”

For one moment, Danny’s hackles are up. Why was Steve at the lodge this late, and why was he talking with Lucy? Danny thinks he’s missing a whole lot of what goes on at this place. But before he can attempt to question Steve about it, he’s sliding into the chair closest to Danny, and Danny’s almost afraid to meet those hazel eyes. He’s afraid of what he’ll see. Sure enough, when he looks over—because of course he looks, how could he not—he sees that heated gaze hasn’t cooled at all.

“I brought fixin’s for s’mores. Want one?”

Danny rolls his eyes. Heaven help him. Lucy’s clearly trying to get them together. Thing is, he’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t need her help. He seems to think he does, however.

Well, if it gets Danny chocolate, he probably won’t complain too much.

“Sure, why not, that sounds good.”

It should be said that Danny considers himself something of an expert when it comes to the proper crafting of s’mores. He’s had to be, because of Grace and camping trips up to Wisconsin and something about badges and appropriate parental supervisorial activities. So, when Steve intentionally catches the marshmallows on fire and claims that’s the correct way to do it (and maybe now’s a decent time to point out that Danny’d had like five Mai Tais), Danny kind of loses it.

“What kind of marshmallow burning Neanderthal are you? That is not the right way to do it. You’re going to ruin them.”

And Danny doesn’t notice, but rather than being put off by that reaction (like any normal person would be), Steve’s actually thrilled by it. His energy level, which Danny neglected to observe was considerably lower than it had been earlier, ratchets up, his eyes spark with delight, and he’s instantly engaged. As, it’s worth noting, is Danny.

Really, it’s kind of beautiful to see.

They wind up each making their own, according to their own exacting standards, and in the end Steve steals Danny’s and admits it is better, which maybe someone told him that was the right answer, because even Danny knows that was smart.

Danny’s dreams, when he finally falls asleep, might or might not include marshmallow fluff in rather tantalizing places.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving your reactions! Thank you so much for sharing them with me, it means so much to me. <3
> 
> Okay, finally-- their "date." 
> 
> (And we're half way done! *sniff*)

Danny’s a little nervous to go back up in a seaplane. On the way in he’d been too sleepy to really worry, plus he’d been so stupidly crabby, he thinks he really wasn’t aware of much outside of his own head. But he’s very aware now. Still, he’s not as anxious as he thinks he should be, which pleases him, though he doesn’t understand it. If he’d think about it, he might realize it’s because he trusts Steve... but he’s being a bit dense at the moment.

Once Danny’s settled in up front (it’s a whole different perspective up here, Danny realizes, and he’s not sure yet how he’s going to take that), Steve drapes a blanket over Danny’s lap, then fixes him with a searching look, as though he’s making sure Danny really wants this. _It’s just a little flight_ , Danny thinks to himself. But something tells him it’s much more than that.

Steve’s care and concern is irritating him, and he can’t help but let a little of it show. “Are we going or not?” He grouses, which makes Steve _smile_ , for crying out loud.

“Are you going to be a grump the whole time?” Steve asks, as he starts the plane. But he’s not irritated at all. He sounds perfectly happy. And very fond.

“Maybe....” Danny mumbles, but only after he knows it’ll be drowned out by the sound of the engine.

Once they’re up though, Danny can’t deny, it’s fucking breathtaking. It might be summer, but there’s still a surprising amount of snow on the mountains. Thick blankets of trees obscure a lot, but there’s lakes and rivers and inlets and some clearings.... And then there’s Steve. Who seems to have a bit of a stunt pilot streak to him, and Danny doesn’t really mind, as it gets him some fantastic views, but he’s very aware that Steve’s doing it entirely for his benefit, and that’s something Danny just isn’t used to. It makes his head fuzzy and his toes tingle.

After a bit, Steve settles into more sedate flying, and it occurs to Danny he has a destination in mind. He flips on the mic in the headset and asks as much. And in response, Steve turns a gaze on him that’s bordering on too sultry for mid-air.

“Just a nice spot for a picnic.” But he doesn’t go back to watching where he’s going, he sort of settles in to watching Danny. And it feels like he’s being tested, Danny thinks, so he allows it for as long as he can, which isn’t very long at all, it turns out.

“Watch the goddamn road, would you?”

And Steve laughs, but he does.

Danny settles back, after that, and tries to let the movement, the scenery, relax him. He wants to feel that freedom people talk about with flying, and he thinks he almost comes close. Problem is, he’s still got layers of darkness restraining him, and it creates this tension—between feeling lifted by the flight, and held down by the gloom. He wants it to break, to shatter, to leave him... but it doesn’t.

Soon they’re landing on a small lake, and heading for a tiny speck of an island in the middle, and Danny reluctantly admits that’s kind of romantic. Damn if he’s telling that to Steve, though.

They park the plane at a rustic dock and walk across to the island. There’s a platform in a clearing, raised, Danny supposes, to provide a dry spot for just such a picnic as the one they’re going to have. He wonders how many times Steve has done this, and he almost asks, but decides he’d rather not know. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen from the altitude or something, but Danny’s feeling like he’s going to just enjoy this for what it is, and try, for once in his life, to not overanalyze the shit out of it.

_Good luck to that_ , he thinks, sourly.

Steve’s tossed a thick Hawaiian quilt on the platform, and is laying out a fantastic spread of rustic breads stuffed with sandwich fillings, jars of fancy pasta salads, bunches of grapes, and a bottle of rosé.

They settle in to eat, and Danny, who skipped breakfast because of his nerves about the flight, is famished, but Steve’s evidently not very hungry. Instead, he watches Danny with a familiar intensity and Danny’s never been so scrutinized as he has been the past two days. Only that isn’t quite right, because this time it doesn’t feel like someone assessing, trying to learn something. Steve doesn’t need to figure him out, Danny thinks, whatever it is, he knows it already. It feels to Danny as though Steve knows something about him that Danny doesn’t even know about himself. Maybe it’s more as though Steve simply needs to be looking at him, like he gets something from it, like fuel. Only, that’s not really right either, because Steve obviously has plenty of that on his own. So it’s something else, something Danny can’t quite put his finger on. And it utterly unnerves him, not knowing.

He might kind of like it.

Because, you see, Danny has taken a backseat to everyone in his life for more years than he can count. Everyone else comes first, everyone else is more important to Danny than himself. And yes, he knows that’s bad. At least on some level he knows it. Bridget lectures him to take better care of himself, when she calls him each Sunday night. She’s always scolded him about that though, and it doesn’t really impact him anymore. But Danny does know it isn’t healthy. Like he knows being absolutely pessimistic about all things relating to life is not healthy.

The thing is, it just doesn’t matter, the knowing.

But there’s something about being the focus of someone’s attention—and _focused_ attention like Steve’s military-grade attention (and that’s not even a joke). It does things to Danny. That whole wanting to burn the gloom out of himself thing? He’s started thinking that sitting under the gaze of Steve McGarrett might just do that, when nothing else will.

And that’s a terrifying thought on about fourteen different levels.

After not enough food and too much of the sweet, fruity wine, he finds himself asking: “Why do you do that?”

Steve’s been completely at ease with the not-talking, and maybe he was waiting Danny out, because he looks very pleased that Danny’s finally spoken. “Do what?”

Danny waves vaguely at Steve. “Look at people like that.”

Steve presses his lips together, and that’s not helping things, now is it.

“Not people, Danny. Just you.” His voice has this edge to it. Maybe edge is the wrong word, more a heat, but it feels sharp, like a blade.

It shakes Danny more than a little. “But that doesn’t even make sense. You’ve known me like five minutes.”

“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?” It shouldn’t sound it, but it does—totally fucking genuine.

Danny knows his mouth wants to fall open but he doesn’t let it. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Again, it’s a genuine question, and that just... no.

“Because this isn’t a movie!” He realizes he’s practically yelling, but it’s not like there’s anyone to hear him.

Steve shrugs, and pours Danny more wine.

Danny waits for a bit, expecting more of a reply than that, but when there isn’t, when there’s just Steve smiling at him again, he sighs and drinks the wine. He’ll need it, if this is how his life is going to be on this trip. Steve puts the wine away, and Danny’s still thinking Steve will push the topic, but he doesn’t, he just leans back on his elbows, breathes deeply, and looks up at the clear blue sky above them.

“It’s times like these I really wish I’d kept up with my guitar playing.”

He won’t admit it, but that sends a tiny thrill through Danny. He’d once had a soft spot for guitar players, in his bad-boy, sneaking-into-concerts phase, hanging out at stage doors, hoping for a glimpse—or a kiss... a shudder of desire threads through his body and he tries to tamp it down. Fails, completely, of course.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks. Questions to Steve about himself, especially his past, Danny’s already learned, are risky things. But he’d brought this up himself, so he can damn well deal with Danny’s curiosity.

Steve looks at him tentatively. He’s giving Danny something of himself—which he is not used to doing, Danny’s figured that out. But now he is, intentionally, and willingly, and Danny knows that’s no small thing. “Fear. Terror, even.”

“Of a guitar?”

“Of being exposed. Seen. Unveiled....”

Danny thinks he knows what he means, and he sees what a big deal that would have been for someone as secretive, as private as Steve. “When’d you quit?”

“High school.”

“So who cares now? Pick it up again. You don’t have to share it with anyone, you could play it here, and no one would know. But you’d have it. For you.” Danny has no idea why he should feel so passionate about it, about Steve needing to do this for himself, but he does. He tries not to think what that means.

Steve looks at him, as though he’s never been aware of that possibility, never realized he could do that, and it lights some spark deep in his gorgeous hazel eyes, and Danny nearly gasps. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Danny gets lost for a bit, in those eyes. When they’re not piercing his soul he thinks he could fall into them and never come up. It feels dangerous. And exhilarating. The hint of a thought flies by, whispering that there might be a clue in those feelings that could tell him things he should probably listen to, learn something from.

But the sun’s warm, and Steve’s gaze is warmer, the wine is making everything soft, the food’s heavy in his belly, and he thinks that he wants nothing more than to melt into the earth and just _be_. Him. Just for him. Not what or who anyone expects. Just like he’s told Steve to do. 

Well. That’s why he’s here, right? He gets five days of being just for him, and he’s not going to waste it wishing he could have it for longer. He lets himself fall back on the blanket, shuts his eyes, sighs as though he’s letting go of something—and it almost feels like he does.

He hears soft sounds next to him, Steve packing the food away, he guesses. And he feels a shift in the air around him as Steve moves closer and lays down next to him—not touching, but only just. He’s so close, Danny can smell him—soap, and wine, and something mechanical, airplane grease of some sort no doubt—and it pushes at his heart, just a little, but it’s all he needed. His hand falls at his side, and he lets it roll out from his body. Sure enough, he brushes up against Steve’s hand. Slowly their fingers tangle. Steve’s thumb rubs feather light circles in Danny’s palm.

His breaths come more easily, a tightness gives way. It feels like the weight that holds him down is lifting, like when clouds you hadn’t really noticed start clearing and the sun begins to get brighter. It’s a small thing. An insubstantial thing. Probably a fleeting thing. But it means everything to him, on this smallest of islands, floating on this sundrenched lake, by the side of this man who puzzles and confuses and compels him like no one he’s known.

And for now that’s enough.


	6. Chapter 6

They stay like that, barely holding hands, not quite touching bodies, but warmth gathering between them, and yeah, symbolically as well. Eventually Steve stirs.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” and they go back to the plane, and Steve flies them to a river stacked with waterfalls, edged in wildflowers, and he flies up it, so close Danny thinks he could stick his hand down and splash in the ice cold water, or pick one of the flowers. He laughs, and thinks he feels a little bit of that thing they talk about, the freedom, the joy.... And he hopes he manages to lock it away in his heart somewhere he can pull it out and hold on to it when he needs to.

By the time they get back to the lodge, they realize it’s later than they thought.

“You’ve missed dinner.” Steve sounds apologetic, but Danny’s still flying, in his mind, and he doesn’t really care at all, which evidently amuses Steve, because he chuckles softly. “I could make us some eggs and toast, if you’re okay coming back to my cabin?”

Danny shrugs. “Sure, that works.”

Steve smiles way too happily about that, and Danny’s heart flutters.

So they head to Steve’s cabin at the edge of the woods, at the top of the path that leads down to the dock. His “commute” is less than a hundred yards, and Danny, who sometimes feels like he spends half his life in cars and on trains, is envious of that. He says as much, and Steve shudders.

“I couldn’t stand that. I get motion sick.”

“Seriously? A Navy SEAL? But, wait, you don’t get air sick or seasick....”

“Naw,” Steve waves the thought away dismissively. “I’m fine as long as I’m in control.”

Danny can’t help it, he laughs, which clearly is not the response Steve expects.

“What?” He genuinely seems surprised.

Danny gives Steve a sideways look. “People don’t usually admit to being control freaks quite that easily, is all.”

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t dissuade Danny of the notion.

The cabin’s simple and rustic but cozy, and Danny feels immediately at ease even though he tries not to. Everything is wood, the lights are muted, and there’s a fuzzy warm feeling that crawls inside Danny and he thinks it claims him somehow, and isn’t that just the oddest feeling? He decides he likes it.

Danny also finds he enjoys watching Steve cook. He doesn’t do anything all that complicated, just a simple frittata, but he does it well and with precision, and Danny’s captivated by it. And maybe it’s the fresh air or maybe he was hungrier than he’d thought, but the food really is good.

They eat at the kitchen table, and they talk about places they’ve traveled. Danny’d done a backpacking across Europe after college thing, and Steve of course had the Navy—though there are clearly places he’s been he won’t admit to.

After they eat, Steve pulls two things out of the freezer. A bottle of rum, and a bag of peppermint patties.

“My usual dessert,” he explains.

They pour shots of the Naval Strength Rum which makes Danny sputter and Steve laugh. Danny’s surprised by the frozen candies, and Steve admits that’s the way his mom kept them from melting in Hawaii, and he’s always done it. And there’s a hint of something, in his tone, not just about home this time, but about his mother, that is something close to hurt or bitterness or maybe just sadness, and Danny wants to ask, wants to get Steve to open up, but something about the way Steve glances away tells him not to.

And anyway, they both start yawning, so Steve stands, offers his hand to Danny, who takes it on a soft sigh, and Steve walks him back to the lodge, leaving him just outside the reach of the lights, and watching till he makes it inside. Danny has to lean up against the wall once he closes the door and collect himself for a moment before he moves on. When he looks out the window in the door, he sees Steve walking slowly back up the path. 

His head is swimming with the fullness of the day, and he has to force himself to shower before he crawls, exhausted, into bed.

As tired as he is, Danny can’t fucking get to sleep, and he winds up tossing for half the night before he finally drifts fitfully off. Of course he pays for that come morning, and he can’t manage to get himself up, till finally around eleven he hears knocking at his door. Stumbling blearily out of bed, he answers it to Lucy, holding a huge, steaming mug of coffee, Roberto behind her with a tray of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fruit.

She grins and walks into the room. “Drink this, you’re wasting the whole day away. Jetlag sucks, but don’t let it win, darling.”

Roberto sets the tray down on the table, then backs, elegantly, out of the room. Lucy winks at him. “Thanks, ‘Berto.” He grins at Danny, rolling his eyes, and shuts the door.

“Does he ever speak?” Danny mumbles as he accepts the coffee from Lucy and nearly burns his tongue with the first sip.

“Only rarely,” she admits, in a somewhat wistful tone. “So, did you have a nice dinner last night?”

Oh, god. Of course, she’d know he’d missed the dinner service at the lodge. There aren’t that many guests. He’s afraid he blushes, tries to cover it with the steaming hot coffee. “Are those blueberry pancakes?” He’s trying for distraction.

“No, pecan, and they’re fantastic. But you’re ignoring my question, sweet boy. How was dinner?”

Danny looks in those golden brown eyes, knows he will lose if he tries, and gives in. She knows she’s won, and shoves him into the seat at the table. “Eat while you tell me, you do not have all the time in the world, you know.”

Does she realize she’s just made a Bond reference? Danny wonders. He feels certain she does, and it makes his head spin.

“He offered to show me around, I figure that’s what I’m here for, right, so....”

One glance at Lucy makes it clear she does not believe that’s what he is here for _at all_.

“...At any rate, he took me out in the seaplane, flew me around for a bit, then we landed and had some lunch.”

Her eyes have narrowed while he’s been speaking, and when he ends on that bland note, she smacks his arm, steals a piece of his bacon, and mutters “You suck at telling stories, has anyone ever told you that?”

The pancakes really are wonderful, and maybe that’s what makes him slip. Or maybe it’s this brash and forceful woman who he’s growing surprisingly fond of.

“Alright, alright, he took me to this tiny island, and we had a picnic.”

She’s taken another piece of bacon, and she waves it at him, _go on_....

He sighs dramatically. “It was fucking romantic, what do you want from me?”

The grin that forms on her impossibly perfect bright orange lips clearly says _details_. She has just enough class to not actually say it, however. She takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. “Okay, that was lunch, though, I feel the need to point out....”

“We flew around some more, maybe lost track of time....”

Lucy wags her eyebrows at him, and he laughs. “That’s easy to do here this time of year,” she allows. “What with the whole light out all the time thing.”

“Anyhow, when we got back, dinner service was over, so he offered to make some food at his cabin.”

She licks her lips and Danny rolls his eyes. “His cabin’s adorable, isn’t it?”

And it surprises Danny, that somewhere deep in his belly, he’s jealous she knows that. She can tell, and he hates that. She can read him like a book, and since when could anyone do that after knowing someone for two days? It’ll drive him mad, he thinks.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin. He’s not my type, and I’m definitely not his. Now eat up, something tells me you’ll need your strength.”

He throws his napkin at her, and she keeps it, smiling sweetly and far too knowingly at him.

“So, plans for today?”

He’s not fast enough to catch himself before his face falls. They hadn’t actually said anything about that, and Danny suddenly feels very strange.

“Uh-oh, darling, that won’t do. I know Steve. He’ll get himself in trouble if you leave him hanging for too long after that. You’d best go check on him, make sure he hasn’t done something reckless and stupid.”

Danny longs to ask why, but it’s clear Lucy isn’t talking. She grabs a slice of cantaloupe from his tray, kisses him on the head, and opens the door to leave. “See you later, sugar. Have fun!”

He does eat up, mostly because the food is so damn delicious, then he showers quickly, dresses, and heads out.

Steeling his nerve, Danny raises his hand to knock on the door to Steve’s cabin.

Lucy evidently knows Steve very well indeed, because when he opens the door, Danny sees he’s covered in blood.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note to self: write more chaptered works with cliffhangers.....)
> 
> I apologize in advance, this is a short chapter. Tomorrow's makes up for it.

“Jesus fuck, what the hell happened to you?”

Steve may be covered in blood, but he’s grinning hugely at Danny. “Why, hello to you, too, Daniel.” He steps back into the room to let Danny in.

“Seriously, what did you _do_?” Danny’s shocked, but he doesn’t move to help Steve, and for some reason, Steve’s reaction to that is to smile even bigger. It irritates Danny.

“I might have had a disagreement with a bear.”

“A _bear_?”

“A very small one... and it didn’t get me. I, uh, fell... escaping. I think I’m okay though, thanks for asking.”

Danny shrugs. “Yeah, looks like it. And besides, all that blood really brings out the color of your eyes, so that’s nice.”

Steve leans against the kitchen counter. “Did you want something?”

“I was just gonna see if you wanted to get a drink or something... but I kinda think you should stay hidden right now. Pretty sure you’d horrify the guests, and there’s no telling what Lucy might do....”

“Aw, that’s sweet, you’re looking out for me.”

Danny rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You got any whiskey in this place? Looking at you is making me need a drink.”

Which is completely and absolutely the totally wrong thing to have said because man, does that make the grin on Steve’s face utterly outrageous. Danny hopes he’s hallucinating because it sure as fuck looks like Steve wags his bloody eyebrows at him just like Lucy had. He then winces, so serves him right, but, shit. Danny’s seriously in trouble. Which evidently means he’s going to help the utter Neanderthal get patched up.

“Alright, sit still.” He forces Steve into a chair in the kitchen and proceeds to put his extensive first aid training to use. “So... what kind of bear was it? Huh? Polar? Grizzly?”

“Naw, just a common bear. We don’t get the others this far south usually.”

Danny laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, it’s the middle of summer, I’m wearing a sweater, you have a fire in the fire place—nice touch, by the way, very romantic—and you’re talking about being far south. Like we should be sitting on a beach drinking beers and, I dunno, surfing.”

Steve smiles somewhat wistfully, and Danny feels a pang at that. He’s kind of worked out that Steve does miss Hawaii, for all his bluster that it’s too dull there. Not enough bears, evidently. They settle into a peaceful silence while Danny cleans Steve up. He doesn’t really need bandages but Danny does put some antibacterial cream on a couple of the deeper scratches, just in case.

“Alright, that should do it. No lasting damage, I think. Well, not physically.”

Steve catches Danny’s hand in his as he drops it from the last scratch. At the contact, Danny swears he shivers. Must be the cold.

“Let me get you that drink. It’s the least I can do.”

Danny, having lost the power of speech for some reason, nods mutely, and goes to sit by the fire. The rug is this ridiculously puffy woven tufted plush thing that makes Danny’s heart skip a beat because the thought that flashes through his head is that Grace would love it. Kicking off his shoes before he steps on it, Danny lets his feet sink into the softness with a sigh. Steve is suddenly behind him, his presence warmer than the fire.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Steve says, softly, into the back of Danny’s neck. And Danny regrets having thought of his daughter because now all he can think is how nice the rug would feel beneath him as Steve presses him into it. _Shit_. He’s so screwed.

Steve holds Danny’s drink out to him, then with a hand barely resting on the small of his back, guides him towards the hearth. There are several large pillows stacked there, and he pulls one out for Danny.

Knowing it’s a spectacularly bad idea and finding he doesn’t give a damn, Danny settles down on the cushion with the too-full glass of whiskey, and watches as Steve watches him far, far too closely. The whiskey is a really nice peaty one, and Danny’s estimation of his screwed-ness goes up several notches as remembers he didn’t sleep very much.

No one has ever looked at Danny the way Steve is looking at him. It feels predatory, but also in some strange sense, harmless. Danny doesn’t feel in danger, more just caught in some inescapable web. He already knows he won’t resist Steve if it comes to it. He could almost admit that he doesn’t want to. And, really, he hasn’t the least idea why, beyond some stupid teenage fantasy of the rough woodsman. Only, if he’s honest, while Steve _looks_ the part, Danny doesn’t think it’s who he really is. There’s something refined about this Navy-SEAL-turned-gamekeeper. Some slick finish that isn’t quite visible under the layer of stubble, rumpled hair, torn jeans, and thick flannel. The whiskey clearly is going directly to Danny’s head, because he’s just had a flash of Steve, in a tux, looking every inch a James Bond candidate. He shivers again, more intensely, and Steve only just holds himself back from moving closer.

“Okay there, buddy?” Steve asks softly.

Danny narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure.”

The answer seems to intrigue Steve. One eyebrow goes up, and alright, Danny finds that kind of sexy. But Steve doesn’t press him, and Danny finds that comforting. Grace is like that with him, especially when he gets bad. Lou always is talking. Which most of the time is okay, but when Danny’s falling, it makes it worse, because it’s like background noise, and he can’t hear the sound of the wind rushing by and know he’s going down too fast. Steve can hold himself remarkably still—the product, no doubt, of his training, not to mention his job. And Danny finds it incredibly soothing.

So they sit by the fire and sip a little at their whiskey, but not much, because they’re both drifting a little towards doziness. Danny’s evidently not the only one who didn’t sleep much last night, and that makes him feel better. Their feet, both pairs clad in thick socks, wind up resting up against each other, Steve’s toes rubbing against Danny’s ankles, which makes him smile—which, of course, makes Steve grin happily. Danny’s never known anyone so delighted by making someone smile. It makes his heart a little bit soft.

They’re about to drift off in earnest when Steve’s watch alarm goes off.

“Fuck.”

Danny bites back the obvious retort just in time.

“I gotta get ready to take Ralph out on the boat for his afternoon nap.” He looks heatedly at Danny. Or maybe that’s just the fire. “Come with me?”

Danny manages to nod. “I’ll go get us some food to bring,” he murmurs, as Steve stands and holds out a hand to Danny, pulling him up and standing way too close. Danny’s practically in Steve’s arms, and he doesn’t really want to move.

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” Steve’s voice is rough and it makes Danny’s knees actually feel weak.

Danny reluctantly extricates himself, moving to grab his shoes and slide them on before escaping the heat of Steve’s cabin.

So. Fucking. Screwed.


	8. Chapter 8

The ritual with Ralph and the fishing entertains Danny. He can so see Lou working out a similar scenario, and that makes him laugh. Once Steve has Ralph set up, he comes back to the boat’s cabin where Danny is sitting, sipping coffee. Steve’s brought his own this time, and it’s fantastic, and Danny’s pretty sure he’s not just saying that because of who made it. Danny had mentioned that he liked really strong coffee, and he’d evidently hit on one of Steve’s hidden talents—making strong coffee. Coffee strong enough for Danny. Which is a rare thing indeed, and do not imagine that isn’t a thought that does funny things to Danny’s heart.

“You would think a place like this would have better coffee, but it’s awful.”

“I’m used to police station coffee, so....”

“Another place you’d think would realize the importance of quality coffee. That and hospitals. And yet....”

It occurs to Danny that Steve seems overly familiar with both, and he tries not to think about that, especially with the memory of a good quantity of Steve’s blood so fresh in his mind.

Steve must see something in Danny’s expression, because he sighs. “My dad was a cop,” he whispers. He blinks rapidly, and rushes the next part, like he’s afraid he’s only a short window to mange to say it: “He was killed. It was my fault.”

Danny’s heart shatters on the sharp edge of that self-blame. So much about Steve makes sense in an instant, he almost feels blinded by the intensity of it.

“Oh, babe,” he finds himself moving toward Steve, wanting to comfort him, certain it wasn’t really his fault, wanting to know, to help, to soothe... and for one moment it looks like Steve might let him. But then those gorgeous hazel eyes shutter closed, and the moment’s gone, and Danny feels cold.

There’s a shift after that. Steve’s let Danny in, but then shut him out, and it frustrates him, but it also compels him in a way that should surprise him but doesn’t. Steve directs their attention to this hollow topic or the next one, with such sway Danny can’t resist it, but he’s left part of him back there in that confession, and he vows, silently, to find a way to return to it.

Roberto’d brought them sandwiches, and when Ralph wakes on the way back to the lodge, they sit together in the cabin and eat them, talking about fishing, and deep ocean fish versus lake fish. Neither of them have been fly-fishing, and they’re not sure they’d like it. Danny’s mildly amused by their banter, but he’s distracted. He also is fairly certain there’s something not entirely aboveboard about Ralph, and he swears the older man is examining him out of the corner of his eye. Danny doesn’t like the way it feels. But he’s probably just on edge because of what Steve said about his dad.

Once they’re back and unloading, the whole fish exchange the same as before—only Lucy’s met them at the dock this time, and Danny’s glad to see her smiling face. Something about her just lifts his mood, and he can’t put his finger on it, but he knows he needed it. She gives him a wink, and nods towards Steve—she can tell something’s happened, and she’s trying to encourage him. He smiles gratefully back, and she blows him a kiss, then slipping her arm through her husband’s, she leads him back to the lodge. Danny wonders what she’d think if he told her he doesn’t actually fish....

And then Steve’s at his side, this sold but slightly uncomfortable presence, and Danny wonders if he’s regretting having told Danny at all.

“I should really put in an appearance at the lodge.” He wants to give Steve an out if he needs it.... He hopes he doesn’t take it.

“Yeah, of course.” He sounds so glum, Danny can’t stand it.

Danny turns to look at Steve. “I’m not really sure I want to.....”

A slow, soft smile creeps up Steve’s face. “What _do_ you want?”

That’s the second time Steve’s asked that, and it unnerves Danny. It’s not something he’s used to admitting. Danny’s used to burying what he wants in the interest of everyone else in his life. But something about Steve, again, gets him to admit it. Maybe it’s his desire to get Steve to open up more, but maybe it’s the damned mountain air, or maybe it’s something deep within him beginning to break free, he’s just not able to dissemble.

“I think you know.”

Steve doesn’t smirk, doesn’t grin. Just a hint of a smile that mostly warms his eyes. “Good. Go shower and get the fishing boat smell off, put on something comfy and warm. Give me an hour, then get a bottle of something nice from Roberto and come to mine.”

And Danny realizes he was right about that smooth Bond-esque side to Steve. He sees more than a little of it now, and it thrills him.

Danny showers, takes entirely too long to decide what to wear, then calls the kids for a quick check in. They’re eating pizza and watching movies, and he has one painful moment of feeling guilty for being away, selfish for taking this time for himself, but Charlie’s barely interested in talking to him, so he tries to sigh it off. Grace clearly wants details. He’s afraid she suspects he’s met someone, by the slightly teasing tone of her voice, but she doesn’t push it. Just encourages him to be sure he’s having enough fun. He gets Lou on the phone and tries to be vague, but Lou can read him, even over the phone. “I’d say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but that’s the opposite of what I mean, and you know it.” Danny thinks for one second that maybe Lou knows more than he’s let on, but Lou’s so good at dismissing Danny by sheer force of will, and Danny thinks he and Steve would probably get along swimmingly. Lou says: “Go, you dummy, stop stalling,” and how did he even know? Danny hangs up with a shake of his head, then goes to find Roberto for a bottle of wine before he can start thinking too much about anything.

Steve’s sitting on his deck when Danny shows up. He’s got a plate of sashimi from some salmon he probably caught himself, which will go perfectly with the white Roberto picked out for him. The thought sits a little uncomfortably with Danny: how much does Roberto know, and is this something Steve’s done before? It’s like Steve can read the thoughts in his eyes, because as he’s opening the wine he confesses.

“I told Roberto to give you a white that would go with seafood. That’s all. He’s as discrete as the grave. Part of the job.” Steve hands Danny a glass, holding his out for a toast. “And you should know. I’ve never done anything like this before. Although, not for lack of Lucy’s meddling.”

Danny’s licking his lips, from the wine, from the delicious food, or from the desire to finally kiss Steve which at this point is driving him nearly insane, he’s not sure which. But he doesn’t say anything, just swallows around the full meaning behind what Steve’s saying. He’s glad he took a really thorough shower. And regrets the thought immediately. Eating first, Danno, he scolds himself. Try and get your head out of your pants for five minutes, could you? He sighs, which Steve either misses or ignores. Thankfully.

They sit in the Adirondacks, which Steve’s draped in blankets. There are twinkly lights along the porch railing, and lanterns hung in the corners. Actual oil lamps. Danny feels a little bit like he’s in a movie. Which has been a bit of a theme in his life the past few days.

There’s just enough of the salmon to really make him hungry, which he thinks is the point. Steve moves them inside for dinner, which he’s got set up not at the table but on a picnic blanket on the rug by the fire. There are candles lit everywhere, soft (and kinda cheesy for Danny’s taste) music playing, and Danny has a really hard time imagining Steve doesn’t do this regularly.

His face must make that clear because Steve blushes.

“Too much? Like I said. Not something I do—have done. Ever, really. Not here, not like this....” He’s awkward and embarrassed, and Danny finds it adorable. “Lucy caught me as I was waiting for the food. She can be... _persuasive_. And I guess she knows where they keep the candles, because by the time I was back here with the food, she’d sent Roberto with candles and music. I can turn it off....”

Danny doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t know what he thinks, but he needs Steve to stop talking. He needs to kiss this man, and now. So he does. And it startles Steve at first, but then he’s pulling Danny in, deliciously tightly, and they fit against each other perfectly, and Danny thinks he’s never felt something so damn wonderful. When he leans back, Steve’s gasping and grinning, and he mutters something about thanking Lucy, and Danny laughs and he takes Steve by the hand and leads him into the bedroom because, really honestly, that’s what he’s wanted to do since the goddamn moment he laid eyes on the man, and they’re slow and painstaking and so hot and it’s everything Danny never knew he needed, everything he’s been missing, and it’s as though that part of him that’d gone dead has been reawakened, and it feels fucking amazing.

They’re lazing in bed after, Steve’s rubbing Danny’s gun hand with his fingers, and it’s like he’s missing something in himself, and Danny thinks he’ll push, later, about why Steve is keeping himself locked away, but right now, he has more important things on his mind, such as: if they’re going to go again (which the most certainly are) they’d sure as heck better eat first. So he gets out of bed, and puts on the closest thing he can find, which is Steve’s flannel shirt (and that makes Steve grin), and he goes out to the living room and picks up one of the plates of food and he brings it back in, and feeds it to Steve, who looks flushed, and utterly fucked, and completely delicious. They eat just enough to refuel, and that’s exactly what it feels like, then they’re back to learning everything they possibly can about each others’ bodies. Danny’s glad they’re both a little out of practice, because it makes it less embarrassing, and he thinks they are better suited than anyone he’s ever been with, either that or he’d just been doing stuff wrong, because he is positive that sex has never been this good before. He evidently says that out loud, because Steve murmurs that maybe it’s the mountain air, it makes everything else better, why not sex too? And they’re laughing, and then they’re not, because they’re kissing again, and it’s so fantastic, Danny can’t get enough.

They fall asleep after, just for a bit, and then they decide they’re hungry enough to actually get out of bed and put clothes on and go sit by the fire. Danny finds the bottle of wine, but can’t find their glasses, so they drink from the bottle, passing it between them, sitting on that plush rug, bare feet tangling together, eating cold meat and potatoes and not eating Brussels sprouts because even with bacon and balsamic they’re still Brussels sprouts. But the lemon ginger carrots aren’t half bad, and even better is the way the ginger makes his mouth tingle, which makes kissing Steve even better. 

There’s pineapple upside down cake for dessert, and the irony isn’t lost on Steve. “I think Chef does it to torment me,” he admits. “Although I really only eat pineapple on pizza.” And it’s like he knows Danny’s soft spots, because the tirade Danny launches into about pizza toppings has Steve laughing so hard, and Danny realizes his heart feels lighter than it has in years.

They take dessert out on the deck, and even though it’s not very dark, there’s a chill to the air, and Steve wraps them in a blanket and they sit on the steps, looking out to the lake, and Danny thinks this is pretty damn perfect.

When they get too cold they wind up back by the fire, and Danny no longer has to wonder how that rug would feel beneath him, with Steve pressing into him, because he knows now, and he’ll never forget it. And on the heels of that thought is another he doesn’t want to allow, because as much as this was exactly what he needed, he doesn’t want it to end. He’s terrified of letting it end. And he hasn’t the slightest idea of what to do about that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved your reactions to that last chapter. Thank you so much! <3
> 
> One more chapter of delights before the closing chapter (which is also the longest chapter)... try to enjoy it and not think too much about what's to come. Honestly, some of you are so like Danny, it's kind of adorable.
> 
> My posting schedule for chapter ten might be a little off from what it's been, but try not to freak out. One way or another, it'll get posted on Tuesday.... 
> 
> Ungh. I can't believe we're almost done! *sniff*

Danny stays the night. Twice he thinks about getting up, going back to his room. He’s paying a lot for it, after all, and he has a few pangs about that. But when he tries to get up, Steve mumbles something incoherent clearly meant to indicate _no, please don’t go_... and he just can’t. If he’s honest, he doesn’t want to. He’s never felt this easy, this relaxed, this—and this kills him— _at home_ this fast. He tries to stop the thought, but he’s too late: He could totally just stay.

Swallowing, he waits for what he knows is coming... and it doesn’t. Any time he’s thought that about someone since Rachel (the first time), it’s sent him into a fucking panic. This doesn’t. And he’s not at all sure what that means.

He sleeps, but not very well, waking what feels like every hour, as though to make sure he’s still there with Steve. It makes an uncomfortable knot in his stomach and his heart seems to be beating sideways.

But when they wake in the morning, Steve makes it all worth it, and god, to be woken like that sends chills all over Danny’s body, and not just because Steve is ridiculously talented with his mouth.

They finally get out of bed and go to the kitchen to make pancakes together. They burn most of them because they get distracted with kissing, but Steve makes a lot of coffee to shut up Danny’s whining, and it’s so strong it mutes the burnt pancake taste.

After breakfast, as they’re sitting, entangled, by the fire, Danny thinks he doesn’t ever want to move, but Steve convinces him to go out to the “hide” with him. It’s theoretically where they would hunt from, but Steve says no one’s used it for that in years. They get some photographers who like to use it, because they can capture images of the wildlife but be in comfort, and since he still has this idea he wants to see a moose or a bear, Steve convinces Danny to let him to fly them out to it. Says he needs to check on it anyway, make sure it’s in good shape in case someone wants to use it next week. Which is an unwelcome reminder of how little time they have left, and Danny drowns the realization with kisses.

Eventually Steve gets Danny out the door, and he goes back to his room to get warmer clothes and to the kitchen to get food to take—evidently Chef has a standard menu for lunch at the hide and Steve says it’s one of his best. That doesn’t surprise Danny, he thinks he’s put on five pounds just the past few days. When Danny goes to pick up the basket from Chef he swears he’s being scrutinized by the man, which makes him uneasy, but he tries to ignore it. He feels better when Roberto catches him as he’s leaving, and slips a bottle of something into the basket with a wink.

He’s used to the seaplane he thinks, as he climbs in, settles in his seat, and tries to focus on thinking about the view and the possibility of seeing animals, rather than his nerves or any weird feelings that maybe are swirling around in his head. Steve winds up being a distraction, as it once again strikes Danny that the Navy SEAL never really stopped treating life like an op. His care and precision and task-force-like resolve make Danny feel comforted, so he thinks he can ignore the fact that it feels more like a secret mission than a day of wildlife viewing. 

The hide, it turns out, isn’t very rustic at all. To begin with, it’s not just one single raised structure. It’s this elaborate series of raised platforms with little huts on them, connected by rope-and-plank bridges, and it makes Danny think of Swiss Family Robinson or the Ewok village in _Jedi_. The whole thing is hooked up to some kind of solar power set up, with all kinds of strange gadgets Danny’s never seen before, and it seems a little weird until he realizes they probably only use it in summer.

Steve needs to check everything out and make sure nothing’s amiss, so they leave the basket and their things on the main porch area, and he takes Danny on a tour. It’s well-equipped for an extended stay—some of the huts have beds, there’s a shower, something called a composting toilet (Danny doesn’t ask), and hammocks hung in various places between the branches of the trees that mingle with the buildings. There’s even a decent stash of basic provisions like water and canned goods, along with an assortment of camp stoves and other supplies. Danny thinks you could last quite a long time out here if you wanted to. Or needed to.

“This is surprisingly nice,” Danny admits, as Steve shows off some of the more elaborate features. “I was picturing an open structure with the wind flapping through, pine needles on the floor....”

Steve grins. “Not for this lot,” he says, and there’s a flavor to his tone that sparks Danny’s interest.

“Yeah, Ralph’s hinted at the clientele being... somewhat thematic?” He’s been wanting to ask, but he’s also had the sense that everyone here is hiding things and Danny should probably not look too closely.

Keeping secrets is something he knows Steve is used to, Danny doesn’t need to be told that. But he’s also stunningly open—which Danny tries not to admit is a good part of the attraction he feels towards him. Fixing Danny with that intense gaze of his, Steve looks for a moment like he’s going to confess something, but then a bird startles out of a nearby tree, and Steve flips into stealth mode.

“That might mean there’s a bear nearby,” he whispers to Danny, as he pulls him close.

Danny shivers a little at the contact, but tries to force himself to pay attention and look around him, though, if he’s honest, he doesn’t imagine he has a shot at spotting anything unless it’s really obvious. There’s a nice clearing around the hide, because the whole idea is to get a good view. And it’s close enough to the water there’s likely to be some traffic. But the colors all blend, muddy browns and dark greens and not much else, and unless a polar bear shows up, Danny thinks he’s not likely to see anything without Steve pointing it out.

Turns out he’s wrong, because what it is is a moose, and they’re really not very subtle, Danny learns. Steve’s guessed it’s a moose from the sounds, but it’s Danny who sees it first, just before it steps out of the shadows into the clearing.

“There!” He whispers, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and pointing. “Oh my god, he’s huge.”

He’s pretty sure Steve quivers at his touch, just as Danny had before, but before he can let that go to his head he’s pulling his phone out to take a picture to send to the kids.

The moose heads to the water, drinks for a while, forages around the shrubbery at the edge of the lake. Danny takes a bunch of photos, as Steve stays very close by his side.

When the moose wanders back into the depth of the wood, Danny sighs, and realizes he’s been tense that whole time.

“That was incredible. I really didn’t think I’d be that... moved....” He’s more than moved, he realizes. He’s turned on. Maybe by the surprising power of the animal, but more likely by how Steve had stayed so close, and that silence, that stealth mode he’d slipped into. It was very commando, and Danny thinks that being on an op with Steve would be a strangely sexy thing.

It’s like Steve can read his thoughts, or maybe he has some of his own, because the way Steve is looking at him has nothing, he thinks, to do with wildlife.

Suddenly they’re kissing, and Danny has no idea who started it and he really doesn’t care. Steve grabs him by the arms, not breaking the kiss, and leads him towards the nearest hut, which is also the largest, and in it is a bed that’s covered in a drop cloth, and Steve pulls it off with one dramatic sweep (while still kissing Danny, and that has to rate bonus points) and then he pushes Danny back onto the bed, falling on top of him.

Danny has one brief moment to think that he has no idea what he’s getting himself into with this deeply secretive man, but he tells himself to shut the fuck up and enjoy it, and for once, he listens to himself.

After they’ve worked up a sizable appetite, they get out the picnic lunch, and Steve’s right, it’s the best meal he’s had here. Although, Danny might have to admit the fresh air and the sex might be influencing his opinion on that. But it’s this completely fantastic cold meat pie thing (classic hunting food, evidently) and the large bottle of local beer that Roberto’d selected and which goes somehow perfectly not just with the food but with the setting as well. And Danny’s almost willing to admit that this whole outdoors thing has a few things going for it, but before he can say that to Steve, he’s being kissed again, and he’s not about to complain, and whatever that thought had been gets lost in the haze of good food, excellent beer, stunning scenery, and amazing sex.

Eventually they return to the food, and they realize it’s almost getting dark, as much as it does here in summer, and once more they’ve been out for a seriously long time.

“Should we head back?” Steve asks, softly, brushing the hair away from Danny’s face, and looking far, far too fondly at him. It’s way too fast to be that taken, he thinks. That’s just not something that happens in real life. But Danny thinks it’s very much the way Steve’s looked at him from the beginning, and he can’t begin to process that.

“Will they... could we...” Danny can’t think how to ask what he wants to, which is _can’t we just stay?_

Steve guesses. And that does something weird to Danny’s heart. “Yeah,” he says, simply. “We can stay.”

Danny bites his lips together, to keep from grinning or to hold back the heat stinging his eyes, he’s not sure which. He leans up against Steve, and the railing they’re sitting against, suddenly needing to hide his expression because he’s not at all sure what it is he’s feeling, or what it means, but it’s something he vaguely recognizes. Something he has to admit he’d given up expecting to feel again. And that terrifies him.

But Steve doesn’t press him, doesn’t push anything, doesn’t try and talk, he just lets him be, and holds him, and Danny realizes he might have his own thoughts he’s processing, though it doesn’t seem like it. It seems Steve knows exactly what he wants, and has since he set eyes on Danny. Which is something Danny just can’t quite grasp. His mind whirs away, but gets nowhere. At least it keeps him distracted, keeps his mind active enough to keep the anxiety at bay. He’s vaguely aware that he’s actually been unusually calm since he’s been here, but he doesn’t want to think about why that’s been, so he winds up thinking about Steve’s single-mindedness again, and he feels himself start to nod off, and just before he does, Steve lifts him up, and carries him back inside, laying him down on the huge, surprisingly comfortable camp bed, and settling down next to him, pulling him in closely, holding him tight, and tugging a thick blanket on top of them.

“’Night, babe,” Danny whispers, and feels Steve kiss the back of his neck.

“Sleep tight, Danny.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you guys.... I am so, so blown away by your comments. Seriously. I never expected you to like this story so much. I’m still utterly a wreck about how you’ll respond to the ending, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about adding more to this ‘Verse.... That said, my mind has already had some fun revelations and started brewing some ideas, and it's totally possible they'll just take on a life of their own..... 
> 
> There was one comment about wanting Steve’s POV on at least some of the moments from this story—which some of you know I’m a total sucker for, so if nothing else, that’s plausible, as a sort of “bonus scenes” extra feature thing. 
> 
> Also. I’ve been working on another AU, sort of the flipside of this one—“What If They’d Met Before”.... and it’s turning out to be a Holiday Story, so probably I’ll finish that one before I start anything else.....
> 
> Quite simply, I have loved writing a longer story for the boys again. And it’s something I absolutely want to do more of. Thank you for encouraging that!
> 
> And, because it's worth saying: I DO love hearing what you want from me.... In fact, for those who don't know this: _that is exactly how this story came to be in the first place!_ So, be honest, because you never know what it might lead to! 
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for coming on this Alaskan journey with me. Seriously, it's been amazing. <3

Danny’s still sleepy when Steve bundles him up and settles him in the plane for the trip back to the lodge, mumbling things about hot showers and softer beds and making the most of things and coffee and pancakes.

They shower. Long and luxurious, and Steve seems bent on making it last as long as he can, but he slips in this comment about how he usually sticks to super quick Navy length showers, and Danny laughs thinking he’d never survive that.

When they finally get out, pink and soft from the hot water, he looks at his clothes from the day before, rumpled on the floor. Steve throws a clean tee at him— _I (heart) pretty boys_ on the chest pocket. Danny raises his eyebrows, but Steve just shrugs. “Lucy.” And Danny laughs. And puts it on.

Steve’s gaze softens, and he walks slowly over, pulling Danny into a chaste but lingering kiss. “Suits you,” he whispers as he steps away.

After a cup of coffee and a few more kisses, Danny slinks back to his room for his book before heading back to Steve’s. As he rounds the corner to his room he spots Lucy coming out of hers, holding a book and wearing the most dressed down thing he’s seen her in—yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, her normally full hair pulled tight in a messy bun. She stills when she sees him, and then she notices the tee. And the smile that lights up her face has Danny shaking his head, feeling his face flush.

“Good for you,” she whispers, and then when he turns to his door, she hits his ass—gently, but still. “Come to dinner with us tonight? I hate to take you away from Steve, but you can go to him after.... Only, I’ve missed you.” She says it softly, and he realizes she means it sincerely. And he finds he’s missed her as well, which makes his heart thud. There’s just something about this place, he thinks. These people. He doesn’t understand it, and it still unsettles him a bit, but he’s come to realize likes it. Likes them.

He turns back to her, a genuine smile on his lips, and he puts a hand to her arm. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She perks back up.

He looks down at her book. “I was about to go read...” he starts. He doubts himself for a moment, but decides to just go for it. “I’m going to sit on the dock with Steve while he fishes....” She grins and Danny half wonders if maybe Lucy does know the truth about Ralph’s not-fishing trips. “You could join us?”

She demurs, but he pushes forward.

“No, really. We...” he wants to say _owe you_ for this, but that sounds bad. “We’d like it.”

He’s rewarded by the sweetest smile. “I’d like it too,” echoing his words with a nod. “Have you eaten? I was going to get Chef to make something... I could bring you guys some as well?”

“That’d be great,” Danny says, realizing he’s starving.

Once he’s in his room, he thinks about changing, but decides against it. He grabs a fleece jacket off the back of the chair, picks up his book, and heads back out.

Danny slows as he gets closer to where Steve’s waiting for him on the end of the dock near his cabin. He’s dragged two of the Adirondacks up from the beach, and he is indeed fishing, which makes Danny chuckle. At least someone’s finally planning on catching some fish, he thinks. When Steve sees that Danny’s not changed his shirt, his eyes heat, and he holds his hand out, pulling Danny into his lap, and okay, Danny loves that, settles into it with a kiss.

He tells Steve he’s invited Lucy, and the grin that spreads across Steve’s face is so like Lucy’s, it bemuses Danny. “You guys are pretty close, huh?” He asks.

Steve’s expression turns bittersweet. “We’ve known each other a long time. She... caught me once, when I was falling.” He blinks and swallows. “She’s good at that.”

Danny thinks he’s very right.

“She’s bringing food, please tell me she’s bringing us food,” Steve murmurs as he pulls Danny in for a few more kisses before she arrives.

He nods. “And I’m sure it’ll be something that’s not actually on the menu....”

Steve laughs. “Yep, that’s Luce.”

They’re still kissing when Lucy shows up, with Roberto in tow, trays of covered dishes in their arms.

“Don’t mind us, boys,” she says lightly when they pull apart, grins sheepish, fingers tangling.

The food is, as usual, delectable. And what’s more, so is the company. Danny loves the playfulness between Steve and Lucy, and he sees they do have a lot in common; posture, mannerisms, and even word usage. Maybe it’s just their shared history, but Danny has a sense it runs deeper. He wonders again what exactly it is that Lucy does. Because he’s certain she’s not as frivolous as she likes to pretend. If her training mirrored Steve’s in some way, Danny would not be surprised.

After a while, Lucy sighs and gets up. “I’m afraid I’ve got a call I have to make,” she says, and is it Danny’s imagination or does she share a meaningful look with Steve? He nods at her, anyway, and Danny feels like a cold wind’s just blown through. But then she’s blowing them both kisses, and she says “I’ll see you at dinner,” to Danny.

He looks back at Steve, who’s finished with his fishing, having caught evidently enough fish for whatever pretend-fishing guest comes next. And he’s looking heated and smug and possessive and just a little bit protective. And it makes Danny feel uneasy and warm and giddy all at once.

“We’ve got a few hours before you should go get ready for dinner....” The fact that Steve’s not objected to Danny going without him bugs Danny just a little, but he brushes it off because the look Steve’s giving him just keeps intensifying, and he turns and basically runs for the stairs up the slope to Steve’s cabin.

Danny hates to think of how little time he has left and how much of that he won’t be with Steve. But they do have time together now. Which they make good use of. And after, while Danny’s thinking he really should go get ready, he wants to ask Steve seventeen different questions, but Steve shushes him with kisses and says “We can talk later.” It’s not what Danny wants, but he accepts it for what it is. When he leaves Steve on the porch, he senses worry, but also excitement, and he thinks, _hope_. Which is just about exactly what he’s been feeling all day.

She’s dressed up for dinner, but not as much as before. And that maybe more than anything tells him something’s different. Their table is with Lou’s friend Tom, a couple of people Danny has seen around but not officially met but who he knows work there as well, and of course Ralph. And on the surface, there’s nothing untoward about the conversation. On the surface it’s fairly typical “getting to know you” polite conversation, and if it does at times feel particularly steered towards getting information out of Danny, nothing he gives away feels terribly important, but somehow he thinks he’s wrong. There’s a thread underneath the whole evening that feels unsettling. But each time he starts to really prickle, Lucy does something that soothes him. Little things, like getting him to try something from her plate, or “accidentally” bumping his leg with her foot as she squirms. A couple times he feels reassuring glances from Ralph. And, what’s even more disquieting, from Roberto. Who Danny is beginning to think is not really a bartender. None of them, he thinks, are what they seem. And that’s making him suspicious about Steve as well. He can’t make it very far down that path, though, before dinner is suddenly over, Tom and the others evidently needing to get on to something else. They all smile warmly at Danny in the end, so he feels slightly less ill at ease, but still not comfortable.

Ralph gets up to follow, leaving Danny with a solid grasp on his arm, a firm look deep in his eyes, and a satisfied nod. He looks at Lucy, who seems drained, tilts his head in Danny’s direction, and walks off down the hall. As he goes, Danny notices there’s a swagger to his walk that’s very familiar.

Lucy gestures to Roberto, then grabs Danny’s hand and leads him toward the table they’d sat at that first night, near the fire.

Roberto brings them over cups of coffee with whipped cream on top, sprinkled lightly with cinnamon, and if Danny’s right, a tiny bit of nutmeg as well. He comes back with a small bottle of some sort of homemade liqueur, sets it on the table next to them. Before he turns to walk away, he rests his hand briefly on Lucy’s shoulder and gives a soft squeeze. Danny kind of wishes he’d do it to him as well. He feels like he needs something to comfort him, because this is all feeling like a little too much.

Lucy sees him watching. She shrugs it off. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

Danny knows his eyes narrow, but she pours some of the liqueur in his coffee and pushes it toward him. She pours a bit more in hers, and sticks a finger in the whipped cream, sucking it off like a little kid, and Danny sees she’s older than she seems. She really does look tired.

“Alright,” he sighs, and they sit in soothing silence for a while. Eventually, she stretches out, and he notices she’s kicked her heels off, because her bare feet come to rest on his own outstretched legs, and it makes him smile.

She meets his eyes, and he thinks there’s something she wants to tell him.

“There was something... odd... about that whole thing,” he waves vaguely back towards their table. “That wasn’t just me being paranoid?”

She gives him a wry smile. And nods, but won’t say anything more.

“You can’t tell me... for some reason? Or... _won’t_.”

Her eyes close and she swallows. When she opens them she says: “I think you should ask Steve that.” And she’s smiling so delightedly, but Danny’s almost afraid she’s going to cry.

He moves his legs closer to her, so her feet slide up his leg, and he reaches down and squeezes her toes. That gets a genuine smile from her, and they sit there like that for a good long while, Danny’s hand resting on her wiggling toes, and she’s perked up, looking so fondly at him, and he knows he’s looking at her warmly as well. Even Roberto seems to have relaxed, and he brings them more coffee.

After they finish their second cups, she gets up. “Alright, darling.” He stands and she leans toward him for a kiss on the cheek. “Go ask him,” she whispers. “I’ll see you in the morning before you go.” She finds his hand for a brief grasp, then reaches down for her shoes, and leaving him with a very sweet smile, she walks out of the dining room. He watches her go, then notices Roberto’s eyeing him. Danny’s eyebrows go up, and Roberto just inclines his head towards the side door, which Danny knows leads out to the dock... and up to Steve’s cabin.

Well, everyone seems to want him to go talk to Steve, so... he guesses there’s nothing for it.

He uses the walk to clear his head, and he doesn’t mean to, but his thoughts swirl and form a loose thread around him. He’s starting to think he has stumbled into something rather extraordinary. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s going home the next day, and back to being a detective, but he feels like his analytic skills have reawakened. He sees things he’s been ignoring. By the time he reaches Steve’s cabin, he’s fairly sure he knows what’s been going on.

“Hey,” Steve smiles warmly as he opens the door and sees Danny. “How was dinner?” He leans against the doorframe, and Danny almost thinks he’s not going to let him in. Not till he knows.

“Weird?” Danny laughs, slightly uncomfortably. Steve’s so close Danny can smell his soap. He needs more.

Steve sighs. “You’d better come in.”

Danny’s got it at least a little worked out by now, so once they’re seated by the fire with glasses of whiskey, and Danny’s trying really hard not to remember how great that rug felt beneath him with Steve on top of him, he begins.

“It’s not really a fishing boat, is it.”

“Well, it is. But it’s more, too.”

“So’s the hide? And the whole lodge.”

“Yeah.”

“What is it, some sort of spy base?”

He sighs. Takes a sip of his drink. “I really can’t tell you that, Danny. And I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Danny puts his drink down and rubs his face with both his hands. There’s other stuff Steve can’t tell him, he realizes. Like about his dad. And maybe his mom. “What _can_ you tell me?”

“That I’m ready to be done with it.” He says it so softly, Danny’s not really sure he’s heard him correctly. “And Lucy knows it. They all do.”

“That’s what dinner was, isn’t it?” He searches for the right words. “Some kind of clearance interview? Make sure I’m... what? Not a threat? Or potential weakness.”

Steve bites his lip, raises his eyebrows, but won’t say yes or no.

Danny knows it’s a _yes_.

And suddenly the entirety of the last week of his life is feeling totally in question. “How I ended up here...” he starts, but Steve holds him off.

“No. I know it seems hard to believe, but that was just stunning luck.”

Danny narrows his eyes at him. “Are you sure, because Lucy strikes me as totally capable of having somehow made that happen.”

“Oh, she is. But I swear. Chicago police aren’t exactly her usual target audience.”

Danny’s somewhat mollified, but he still feels uneasy about it.

“I think your partner was college friends with Tom...” Steve muses. “So, if anything, I’d look to him. But I’d wager it was just remarkably good luck. Isn’t that possible?”

Danny looks at Steve, looks at the way Steve’s looking at him, and he finds it very hard to believe. And yet....

“Yeah,” he whispers, as he stands, and settles himself on Steve’s lap, something he seems to have developed a fondness for doing. “Anything’s possible.”

Steve grins, and Danny knows he’s made it over some important hurdle. And then he yawns, and Steve chuckles softly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” and he lifts Danny up and carries him into the bedroom, and Danny knows he’s lost to it, and not even one tiny part of him is unhappy about that.

The light in Steve’s room is soft, and Danny’s feeling soft as well, but he’s also feeling a bit panicked because he knows he’s going home tomorrow, and he can’t seem to get enough of this gorgeous man who is holding himself firmly against him, wanting more, but Danny needs to just look, to take it in, to hold this moment somehow so it will last.

He’s put his hand to Steve’s face, next to the largest of the gashes from his fall... when, like a shock, it occurs to him that was probably not entirely the truth either.

Steve guesses the thought Danny’s just had; he looks sheepish.

“There was no bear, was there?” He asks.

Steve takes a breath. “Ahhh, _no_. Not exactly.”

“What was it? Oh, never mind, you can’t tell me, can you.”

Which makes Steve grin, and he leans in to kiss Danny. Right before he gets there, he pauses. “No. But I can tell you something else you asked me before. About why I look at you that way.”

And he’s right against Danny’s lips, so close Danny can’t see his eyes, and he closes his and listens, because this he really needs to remember. He knows it will be important, knows it will help him when he’s back home. Steve breathes softly across Danny’s lips, and it makes him shiver. He’s whispering now, and it floods Danny’s senses with the warmth, the intensity, the openness.

“It’s because when I look at you, I see something familiar. I see the sun. I see home. And I can’t explain that, I just know it’s true. You look like sunshine to me, and I’m drawn to it. I want to be near you, and when I pull away, I feel cold.”

Danny wants to cry, and he wants to laugh, because if he’s sunshine why’s it always so dark? And he wants to fall down because he doesn’t want to go back to that. He can’t, he just can’t. He starts to drown in the thought, but he feels Steve holding him up, and he realizes he really is falling to the floor. He pushes hard and somehow he stands a little more on his own, and Steve’s looking deeply into Danny’s eyes, and damn, but it’s really Steve who is the sun, and Danny feels it warming him from inside, from the eye contact, lighting him on fire, just enough, just enough he thinks, so he can stay warm, and there’s a look of promise, a look of _this doesn’t end here_.

“After the summer’s over I’m done. I’m out. And I have no plans, whatsoever. Nowhere to go, nothing to do....” He’s grinning, and Danny realizes it’s because of his own reaction. “Got any ideas?”

“Just one,” Danny whispers. And he closes the space between them and kisses Steve like he won’t ever let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with a continuation: 
> 
> ["All Roads Lead..."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979481).


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